


The Now

by thecarlysutra



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Champagne, Drinking Games, F/F, New Year's Eve, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 18:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecarlysutra/pseuds/thecarlysutra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SUMMARY: Willow and Faith play a game.<br/>AUTHOR’S NOTES: Takes place post-series, with no respect for the comics whatsoever. Written for femslash_minis Round 82 for aaronlisa, who wanted Faith and Willow celebrating New Year’s with champagne, regret, and a Sunnydale setting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aaronlisa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaronlisa/gifts).



  
They sat on the rug in front of the fire, in sock feet, a bottle of champagne between them.

“Beat up Buffy,” Faith said, and took a long gulp of her champagne. She scrunched her nose; the bubbles tickled.

Willow raised her glass to her lips. “Beat up Buffy,” she echoed.

“Killed the deputy mayor?” Faith offered, and took a drink.

“Killed Warren,” Willow said, and drank.

Faith squinted at the fire through the distortion of her mostly empty champagne flute.

“This,” she said, “is a stupid game.”

“New Year’s is about reflection,” Willow said.

“This is more like regret. Anyway, I thought New Year’s was for getting trashed and kissing a stranger at midnight.”

“Never done that,” Willow said. She eyed Faith. “Drink.”

Faith finished the champagne in her flute. She rolled the stem between her palms, watching the fire reflect gold off the curves of the glass. Funny, how things could distort, how they could look like something else entirely if you just looked at them from another angle.

“I regret—”

“ _Reflect_ ,” Willow corrected.

“No, this one is definitely a regret. I _regret_ being sent here to babysit a hellmouth we blew up already.”

“Giles says—”

“Yeah,” Faith said, running her finger over the rim of her glass, “he’s always saying something. I just know I was okay with the idea of never coming back to Sunnydale.”

“Well, we’re not _really_ . . .”

“I am surprised Giles didn’t insist we take sleeping bags to the crater. At least we’re indoors, I guess.”

Willow nudged Faith’s socked foot with her own. “And the company’s not bad.”

Faith grinned. She set her glass down. “No. No, it is not.” Faith crawled over Willow, carefully settling herself in Willow’s lap, face to face. “You know, you turned out to not be so bad, Rosenberg.”

Willow brought her hands up to cradle Faith’s hips. “You too. Well, you know, first you were, like, _really_ bad, but after that—”

“Now,” Faith said. “You mean now.”

“Yeah,” Willow said. 

“Enough reflection,” Faith said. She glanced briefly down at Willow’s watch. “It’s almost midnight.”

“You know, I’ve never actually kissed someone at midnight on New Year’s,” Willow said.

Faith’s maroon-painted mouth dropped open in mock shock. “You don’t say.” A wolf grin curved up her lips. “Well,” she said, “we’ll have to do something about that.”

Willow’s hands moved up Faith’s back as Faith leaned in and kissed her. For all the boasting and bravado, Faith could be soft sometimes. And she was soft now, her touch delicate, teasing, sweet as champagne. 

“Wow,” Willow breathed as they broke apart. “I sure did not regret that.”

Faith wriggled in Willow’s lap a bit, moving her hips in a snake charmer’s dance. “Think of all the other things I could do to you that neither of us would regret.”

“Is it midnight yet?” Willow asked, but before she could look at her watch, Faith grabbed Willow’s wrist, her palm covering the watch face.

Faith grinned. “Who cares? Let’s live in the now.”

Willow pulled Faith against her—soft, yielding, sweet. This, she sure as hell did not regret.  



End file.
